


happiness is all the rage

by Lint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: “We'll figure it out,” Betty offers softly. “We always do.”





	happiness is all the rage

Inevitably, it all falls apart.

 

When Archie's dad catches a bullet in a random act of violence that's anything but, left dying in the arms of his son on a cold linoleum floor, the masked intruder getting away easily with hardly any money from the register. It doesn't take a genius to figure robbery wasn't the main motive of attack, just some extra padding in a crafted lie, which Sheriff Keller will buy hook line and sinker. Because honestly, who would ever want to hurt Fred Andrews?

 

Veronica knows.

 

With a clear mind and little doubt, that everything she dreaded her father capable of these last few months, is presented before her in a private room at Riverdale hospital. He's unconscious now. Been that way ever since the surgery yesterday. Archie has not moved from his father's beside, despite a doctor and several nurses informing him that, visiting hours are not round the clock.

 

He holds Veronica's hand so tight she winces, which he's quick to apologize for. In true Archie fashion, he thinks he could have done something, _should_ have done something. As if the barrel of a gun can somehow choose who it's pointed at, and make a decision to fire on a case by case basis.

 

“I was right there,” he laments. “I could have, I mean, I would have-”

 

“Then it would be you in that bed,” she offers quietly. “Or six feet in the ground.”

 

From the look on Archie's face, she honestly believes he'd prefer it that way. The heart monitor beeps between their silence, and she can't find the strength to tell him just who had done this to his family, not yet anyway.

 

She's sick to her stomach for two whole days before she does. Sitting at a wobbly table in the hospital cafeteria, watching Archie drink a diet soda and munch on trail mix from the vending machine.

 

“Why would your dad want to hurt my dad?” He asks in all seriousness.

 

His tone is one of skepticism, but one look in his eyes she can see it makes sense to him.

 

“Because of my mom,” she answers, feeling it's the most obvious answer. “Because they-”

 

She looks down at her hands.

 

“Because your dad refused to sell. Because he wouldn't back down.”

 

She scratches at the polished nail of her ring finger, purposely chipping it away.

 

“Never cross a Lodge Archiekins,” she warns. “The consequences are always dire.”

 

Moving onto her middle finger, she still doesn't look up at him, fearing to see how the weight of her confession will press further down on those broad shoulders. Instead she just chips at her nails, counting out the seconds of the terrible awkward lull, and gets to seventy-three before Archie speaks again.

 

“I should get back to the room,” he says.

 

She nods in reply, still keeping her head down.

 

“I'll call you later?” She offers up.

 

“Yeah,” Archie accepts. “Sure.”

 

She calls once, later that night when she can't sleep and assumes he can't either, but it goes straight to voice mail.

 

She doesn't leave a message, or call again.

 

Archie doesn't seem to notice.

 

/\

 

She loses him the second he puts that jacket on.

 

Despite a confession of love only moments earlier, assurances that despite all the changes he's gone through, they were not going to change. But it happens right before her eyes. The way Jughead smirks with the leather in his hand. How he didn't even hesitate to slip it around his shoulders. All too eager to accept the Serpents extended offer of family he's so desperately been lacking.

 

Even when she thought that's what they, she him and Archie, had always been.

 

Jughead Jones, the weirdo.

 

Jughead Jones, the outsider.

 

Honestly, Betty had been a little shocked to see how seamlessly he'd fit in at Southside High. How easily he spoke. How freely he laughed. As if he'd been there all his life. As if he belonged.

 

Jughead Jones, the Southside Serpent.

 

She watches as he shakes the hand of the bearded man, still half hidden on the other side of the door, and one by one the snakes slither away in the rain. He sheds the jacket once they're gone, but she knows it's going right back on the second she's not looking.

 

Their moment effectively killed, they end up on the couch watching an old movie on FP's old tube TV. Jughead doesn't try to downplay what just happened, nor does he try to explain himself, not that she wants him to.

 

It twists her insides a little, after such an impassioned speech about truth and honesty, that he's so willingly running into the arms of a gang of people who probably don't know the meaning of those words. That they're not just outsiders like him, but criminals, actual and legit.

 

“I'll still be me,” Jughead says suddenly, as if he can read her mind.

 

She keeps her eyes focused on the screen.

 

“Of course,” she replies automatically, even if she doesn't truly believe it. You don't play the freak, the nerd, the romantic all your life and remain the same when finally welcomed among such other like minded people.

 

It ends so much faster than she anticipates.

 

She puts her hand through a mirror and laughs at the obvious metaphor.

 

/\

 

They sit side by side on a bench overlooking the big bend in Sweetwater River. Their breath is visible against the air, the last of a winter chill still lingering even the snow is starting to melt. Betty informs her that in another week or so, this bench will be underwater until the end of May. She goes on into a bit of a history lesson. About the river, and the town. Veronica nods along because some of it is actually interesting, and this seems to be their first conversation in a good while that isn't directly revolving their respective break ups.

 

Betty's hand is still bandaged, the stitches come out on Thursday, the sight of it prevalent in the corner of Veronica's eye as she points to a certain cluster of trees and informs that in the fifties crashing old junk cars in the woods was kind of a trend.

 

“Daddy comes home next week,” Veronica says once Betty's lesson has concluded.

 

The ponytail bobs behind her head as it turns sharply toward Veronica at the declaration, that bandaged hand immediately reaching for her.

 

“How do you feel about that?”

 

Veronica exhales slowly, watching her cloud of breath float away on the crisp air.

 

“Terrified,” she admits. “I spent the last few months assuming the worst about him, but I was right. About everything. And my mom? God, it's like she pulled this complete about face when it got confirmed he's getting out. She actually wanted me to use Archie to get his dad to sell his part of the drive-in project. It feels like when we got here, she never would have asked me that. It wouldn't have even been a thought in her head, but now that daddy's coming back, everything caters to his whim no matter the consequence or implication.”

 

Betty's hand squeezes her shoulder, as a pair of tears slide down her cheeks, and she's quick to wipe them away in the cold.

 

 

“I never,” she starts with a sniff. “I never knew being right could feel so awful.”

 

Betty's bandaged hand slides along Veronica's back to wrap around her, the other falling atop her knee, head tilting to press theirs together.

 

“I don't know how I'm even going to be able to look at him,” Veronica admits. “Knowing what he did. What he's done.”

 

“We'll figure it out,” Betty offers softly. “We always do.”

 

Veronica's hand moves atop Betty's on her knee, a slight smile on her lips.

 

“Thanks, B.”

 

/\

 

Betty catches the mother of all colds, and is oddly pleased to discover that on top of singing like a nightingale, Veronica also dotes on the sick like one. She's quick to blame herself, keeping them out in that weather for hours, hashing out every trepidation of Hiram Lodge's imminent return.

 

She arrives in Betty's bedroom with homemade soup, which the recipient knows can't possibly be, and a list of favorite movies from her sick days as a child. Veronica sets the soup on Betty's nightstand, queues up the first film on Netflix, and pulls up the desk chair.

 

“You're staying?” she asks in surprise.

 

Veronica just shoots her a look.

 

“Of course I'm staying,” she touts. “The only thing worse than being sick, is being sick and alone.”

 

“But I'm contagious,” Betty replies, her point emphasized with a cough. “You'll catch it too.”

 

Veronica is quick with a dismissive wave of her hand.

 

“My immune system is immaculate, girl. I hardly get sick anymore.”

 

Betty laughs, immediately followed by another round of coughing, and Veronica shoots quickly to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. She tilts the cup to Betty's lips on her return, which the bed ridden girl is quick to take it from her hand.

 

“I'm not an invalid, V.” She says before taking a sip.

 

Veronica only smirks in reply, reaching out to feel Betty's forehead with the back of her hand.

 

“My nursing skills are full service,” she quips. “Better take advantage of it while you can.”

 

Betty rolls her eyes, but suddenly feels very warm inside.

 

“Fine,” she accepts. “But I draw the line at you feeding me.”

 

/\

 

Veronica sits on the floor with her back against Betty's bed, phone off but held in hand, watching as Nicolas Cage reaches out of the station wagon after a wild u turn to pick up the dropped diapers. For some reason it's become important to her that Betty like Coen brothers films, after a random conversation where the blonde admitted she's never actually seen one.

 

It's a thin excuse to drop by, but Betty never questions it, or any of the others as to why she comes over every day and doesn't leave until Alice essentially kicks her out. With her father home she looks for any reason at all to be absent from the apartment and of course Betty's house, her room, feels like the safest place to be.

 

It's an odd anniversary of sorts. One month to the day she had that last conversation with Archie in the hospital cafeteria. One month since Jughead went full Serpent. It hangs in the room like an unwanted guest, though neither girl feels need to mention it, just letting mutual sadness hang between them.

 

Betty lays flat on her stomach just above Veronica's head, her hand reaching out every once in a while to tap at her shoulder or trace a finger along her ear, in soft little reminders of her presence. Pulling away when she snorts softly at the sight of Hi and Ed screaming at each other.

 

“Told you it's hilarious,” Veronica states smugly.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Betty sighs. “What was I thinking to ever question your taste in anything?”

 

The movie plays on, as Betty pulls gently at Veronica's hair, fanning it out before her on the mattress, smoothing every strand until they lay perfectly flat. Goosebumps dot her skin with every stroke of Betty's fingers, it suddenly difficult to concentrate on the screen even though she's seen it a dozen times, a small sigh of contentment escaping her lips.

 

“I'll always have you,” Betty states abruptly. “Won't I?”

 

Veronica's head turns back, one eye catching Betty's, before her whole body to shifts so that's she's on her knees and they're face to face. She cups Betty's cheeks in her hands, thumbs brushing softly against the skin, and only nods a reply because she's suddenly lacking in words.

 

She wants to kiss her.

 

The urge is so swift, so desperate, but somehow she manages to keep it at bay. Having already made that move before. For attention. For climax. Masking her true intention. To see if there was the minute possibility of something more.

 

It's up to Betty now. She has to make that decision.

 

Veronica can't help the gasp when she does, pushing up on her elbows to press forward, their lips finding each other with the sweetest of kisses.

 

What's the saying? About misery loving company? As if happiness itself were somehow a solo mission.

 

Two letters, B and V, in some such way spelling a word of four.

 

/\

 

They stand on the platform, looking down the tracks, holding hands and waiting for the train to arrive. Betty's burgeoning investigative skills had found the adoption records of her long lost brother, indeed a blonde Adonis as originally thought, but labeled with the unfortunate name of Chic. Not short for anything, which Veronica immediately questions the taste of his parents for such a moniker. Betty buzzes with nervous energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and checking her phone every ten seconds or so for the time.

 

 

She expected resistance to learning the family that gave him up was not only still intact, but also produced two siblings. That was, thankfully, not the case. Weeks of text messages, phone conversations, and the occasional Skype session only produced the image of the lone male offspring as nothing but an easy going, well rounded individual. One who offered an effortless invitation to meet newly discovered sisters.

 

“What's his major, again?” Veronica asks.

 

“He's in the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy. He said something about wanting to be an FBI agent, or maybe it was the CIA, I'm not sure.”

 

“You finally going to let the cat out of the bag that the rest of your family doesn't know you found him?” Veronica asks, bumping Betty's shoulder to stop her from checking her phone for the umpteenth time.

 

“Well, I probably won't lead with that,” Betty answers. “But yes. I figured explaining the crazy that is the Cooper household would be better to do in person.”

 

Veronica nods.

 

“Better that you wouldn't scare him off from meeting in the first place,” she retorts.

 

“That too,” Betty grins at her.

 

“So where does Alice think you're going?” Veronica asks.

 

“Tufts University.”

 

Veronica's eyes narrow.

 

“That's exactly where we're going.”

 

Betty shrugs.

 

“No need to hide the truth about location if she has no idea he's there, V.”

 

“So, she just thinks you're checking out another literary internship or whatever?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Veronica smirks. “You are bad when you want to be, Cooper.”

 

Betty laughs and gives her hand a little squeeze.

 

“Thanks for coming with me.”

 

“You're my girl,” Veronica replies easily. “I always have your back.”

 

Betty leans down to kiss her.

 

“I know.”

 

 

 


End file.
